The Snake and the Lady
by 1607hannah
Summary: A series of one-shots detailing Sigyn and Loki's arranged marriage and their growing relationship.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: To celebrate Thor: The Dark World Rises! Which I'm going to see next week, so hush, no spoilers please :) Of course, like any sane fangirl (not that Thor fangirls are insane, but you know...) I love Loki. So this fanfic is more or less focusing on his relationship with Sigyn (which is different from the original comic books - in terms of twistedness and characterisation). It'll be a series of one-shots, as I cannot and shouldn't write a full length story._

I don't know why but I do have a sort of Sansa-like Sigyn. This sort of developed before I watched a Loki/Sansa video on youtube, but it is beautifully done, so I really recommend watching _**Loki & Sansa: You said you loved me**__ to understand where I'm coming from. ( watch?v=d_XFDFqTgHk). There is some deviation from Thor and a hint at the Avengers later on, but it's nothing major. Hope you all enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter One  
Expectations**

Mother had given me a new dress; I stood on the stool for hours while the tailor and my maids fixed the fabric around me. The silver-green suited the red tones of my hair and my pale skin, I saw my sisters, Avedis and Gefion, looking enviably at me when I had a silver belt wrapped around my hips, the ivy leaves linking and twining around my small waist. Mother then let me down and sat me next to a mirror, picking up my brush and going through my hair.

"You are a woman grown now and your father expects you to make a good impression, this is a great opportunity for our family."  
"And me." I smiled, my mother gave a tense smile. The brush tugged through a tight knot and I hissed slightly in pain.  
"Loyalty to your family comes first, Sigyn, remember that. You were born of our blood, marriage is only a bond made by two different bloods. Until you have a child, it is merely a rope bound between two hands."  
I nodded and recited the words my tutor taught me, "I will make you and father proud, and I will give Loki many sons."  
My mother kissed the top of my head, "You already make me proud."

My father knocks impatiently on the door and calls through the heavy wood, "Come, what more is there to be done? Anyone would think you were slaughtering a bull."  
Avedis skips to the door and opens it, she instantly puts her hand in father's and pulls him into the room.  
"It isn't fair that Sigyn gets a new dress and I…"  
"Hush Avedis." Father says and Avedis instantly falls quiet, we all know that tone of voice too well to object. Father looks at me as I get up and spread my arms a little so he can see the full effect of the gown, the graceful cut of fabric on my shoulders and neckline, the silver belt. He nods thoughtfully.  
"His colours, good."  
My mother goes to stand by his side and looks appraisingly at me.  
"Her hips and breasts are rather small." My father says and I feel my face flush with colour.  
"She is only thirteen, my love. They are not to be married for another two years."  
"It will do, for now." My father mutters, casting a dark look at me as though I could control how and when I grew.  
Father spoke again, "Tighten the belt?"  
"It is already knotted rather tightly." My mother protested, but she moved over to me and tightened the clasp at the back, so the cold metal dug into the silk of my gown, before father could say anything else. He shrugged once she had finished.  
"Better." Father took my mother's arm and I dutifully followed him with my sisters behind me.

"It is good to see you, old friend." Odin clasped father by his arm and my father smiled.  
"And you, your grace."  
"Enough of that, we are in private company here. Let us dine together as two families should. Not a King and his advisor."  
Odin kissed my mother's cheek and then spied me, standing behind my parents. I was trying to obey the lesson of keeping my eyes lowered, but every now and then I glanced up curiously. I had tried to see my betrothed, but I had only caught glimpses of him and could not see over Odin King and Frigga. He smiled at me. The king was such a great man, though I felt a little nervous by the eye patch over his right eye and the sharpness of his other. His mouth seemed grim and I felt if my father had not been present he would not have smiled.  
"So this is she."

My parents drew back a little and I gave a low curtsey to the King and Queen. The Queen smiled sweetly at me, though Odin seemed to be taking in my appearance as much as my father. He finally nodded, turned back and called down the steps.  
"Thor, come greet your sister. Loki, come greet your betrothed."  
I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and bit my lip nervously. I heard the scuffle of footsteps mounting up the pale sandstone steps, two sets of footfall climbing up the stairs, till they came into view. I raised my gaze and tried not to look back down to my feet. Everyone had heard of Thor, a great warrior amongst immortal men, and I'd heard my handmaidens whispering about how handsome and charming he was. Their talk growing more scandalous and making me blush. He was far taller than I was and broader across his shoulders, but despite his strength and build he smiled kindly at me, raising my hands to his lips.  
"I am glad to have met you sister."  
"And you, sir." I stammered, trying to ignore Gefion's giggle at my flustered face.  
"Loki." Odin growled and I turned my attention to my betrothed.

Where Thor was light haired and had great strength within his arms and shoulders, eyes warm and sky blue; Loki was slighter and leaner built, his hair was dark and his grey eyes clear cut and intelligent. He tilted his head slightly to one side, but it did not feel as though he was judging my outward appearance as the King and father had done. He was judging my spirit. I didn't know what to make of him, I didn't feel frightened as I had when I'd spoken with his father, but I didn't feel entirely comfortable with him. I bobbed down in another curtsey.  
"Sir, I am glad to have met you at last."  
A sharp smile came to his lips, as though he knew a joke and I was not aware of it, "And I am glad to meet you, Lady Sigyn." He made no attempt to flatter me or kiss my hand. In fact, once the introductions were complete – my father and Odin speaking on the last war they had fought, my mother talking with the Queen and my sisters gazing up at Thor in wonder, while he chatted away with them – Loki's expression became one of boredom. He tapped his foot on the stone floor and, when I could not take my eyes away from him, he scowled at me.

"Was your journey fair my lord?" I asked, attempting conversation, though envying how my sisters were now talking merrily away with Thor.  
Loki sighed impatiently and quickened his walking pace, I ran to keep up, trying to not step on my dress. I felt rather irritated, this was not how a betrothed was meant to treat his lady. From all the stories Gefion insisted we read, I had plenty of information on how a Lord was meant to treat his Lady. Considering how much I liked my new dress and how everyone said I looked well in it, he should really have commented on my appearance. I gritted my teeth and remembered my mother's advice, that some men were a little more nervous about these things than others. Loki showed no sign of nervousness, but perhaps he kept it well hidden. I would try complimenting him, I decided.  
"I like your tunic, sir." I said.  
I saw Loki roll his eyes, "Tell me, do you plan on matching our clothes from this moment onwards? Or will you still insist on making such awful attempts at conversation?"  
I nearly tripped on the hem of my skirt, my cheeks now flaming red and saw his little smirk.  
"No, sir." I muttered, lowering my head and glancing at him through my eyelashes.

"Loki." Odin called from the end of the table.  
Loki looked up, his hand resting on the wineglass, his other spinning the knife on the table.  
"Yes, father?"  
"Talk to the damn girl."  
I was almost certain this was proving to be the worse evening of my life, I did not even wish to think on my future wedding day. Loki's jaw clenched and he swallowed the rest of his wine.  
"Yes, father." he growled and beckoned the serving girl over to pour more wine in his cup. Frigga gave a minute shake of her head at him, but he seemed to pay no attention to them. I pick at my plate of food, not wanting to look at him. I'm scared, it is as though I am screaming inside, battling with my mind. I feel so scared of how I feel. I like looking at him, I like the way his cheek is pale and smooth. I keep feeling tempted to reach out and touch it, but I remind myself that is folly.  
"So, what do you like doing, Sigyn?" he is acting out of politeness, but Loki does not even bother to hide his tone of scorn.  
"Reading, sewing, I sometimes like to paint as well…" I am not even at the end of my list, before he gives an irritable sigh and drinks heavily from his glass.  
"I like horse riding too, I have a beautiful horse called Sindri. Perhaps, you like to ride and we could go riding together?" I suggest and for once Loki smiles, though there is still a sense of a hidden jest at my expense.  
"Yes, we should _ride_ together."  
"What do you like doing, sir?"  
"A good many things that would not interest you."  
"But I am interested," I exclaim, "I will be your wife someday and it is a wife's duty to take interest in all her husband has done and to support him with his endeavours."  
Loki smirks, "_On Wifely Duties and Her Hearthstone. _Yes, I read that book and…well, I say read, I got to the third page and put it down out of fear of losing all good sense in my mind. Do you actually believe such rubbish?"  
I sat dumbstruck for a moment, while Loki poured more wine into my own goblet, even though I had barely drunk any at all.  
"Don't you want a wife who does her duty to you and is loyal?" I ask.  
Loki drummed his fingers on the table, "Ah little Sigyn, that is part of the problem. You see, I don't believe I want a wife at all."

"So do you think he is an Other?" Avedis whispered eagerly from our bed, I was still brushing my hair, my face reflected back to me in all my confusion.  
"What's an Other?" I asked.  
"He likes men." Avedis said as though this was obvious.  
"No." I said staunchly. I considered it for a moment, but Loki did not feel as though he would prefer male company to female…in truth it felt as though he would prefer nobody's company, though he desired to be seen as great as his brother.  
"Well let's not talk about Loki, he's boring and much less handsome than Thor." she wiggled happily down into the bed, stretching her arms above her head, "I wish I was marrying Thor."  
"Loki's handsome." I say. He had slowly began to talk a little more with me as the evening progressed, especially as I had decided not to bring up _On Wifely Duties_ again, though I still did not believe we had much in common. He agreed to a ride tomorrow though. I liked his eyes, when we spoke of other books they had shone brightly.  
"No he's not."  
"Yes he is." I said, "What do you know about it? You're only ten."  
"I know Loki isn't handsome, he's not brave or strong like Thor."  
"Well that doesn't matter to me." I say smugly, "Besides, if anything should happen to Thor, Loki would be next in line to the throne…and I…I would be his queen."  
Avedis lets out a little gasp, "You can't say something like that."  
"Like what?"  
"Wishing ill fate on Odin and Thor."  
I try to roll my eyes like Loki, but he seems to have it well practiced and I do not, "I am not ill wishing them. I'm just saying."

"Don't you think they should have a guard with them?" my mother says, looking towards my father as Loki pulls on his gloves.  
"We are only going for a short ride, my lady." Loki says.  
"They are betrothed, Loki knows the consequences should he try anything against your daughter." Odin says, taking my mother's hand comfortingly in his own.  
Loki bears sharp, white teeth, "Of course, my lord. I'll bring her back in one piece."  
I keep my attention focused on Sindri's bridle and reins, checking the girth and the stirrups before I mount. He does not offer to help me up and makes no attempt to wait for me, squeezing his legs against the bay horse's side and going into a light trot towards the gateway. I quickly bid goodbye to my parents and the King and Queen, before riding after him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two  
Anticipation

I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. I had liked the peach gown detailed with white flowers and golden stems, a silk cape around my shoulders with the same pattern of golden flowers. But now I feel too hot and tired. The corset digs into my ribs underneath and I only pick at my dinner. The gold jewellery around my legs and arms makes them ache. My hair tied up in its intricate up do, and the spiked diadem with emerald stones as large as my thumb nail, makes my head ache. I'm tired from dancing with near every man in the hall and the small slippers on my feet pinch my toes. Loki has barely spoken one word to me, now and then he laughs at something a friend or his brother says, but he doesn't spare me a glance.

The musicians begin a lively drinking song, concerning Thor getting wildly drunk and making several ludicrous claims. Thor and his friends soon begin bellowing the chorus.  
_'Who's the fool now?  
Tell me who's the fool now?  
Fill thou the cup and I the can.  
Who's the fool now?'_  
For once I feel my husband's irritation at how all events seems to magically revolve around my new brother, Thor. This should be my day and Loki's, they should be praising my husband's intelligence and my grace. Instead we celebrate Thor getting so into his cups he swears he has seen a mouse chase a cat and a maid milk a bull! I look down at my husband's clenched fist on the table, as his brother charmingly grins at his companions and my handmaidens. I cautiously place my hand near Loki's, carefully brushing the back of my hand against his. He almost jolts from his seat and overwhelming shame rushes up to my cheeks, as he gives me a look suggesting I did far worse than touch his hand.

"I am sorry, husband." I murmur.  
Loki brushes a hand over his face and then rubs his forehead.  
"Get you to bed, wife." he says through clench teeth, not looking at me.  
I realise this day isn't about me either; despite the fine clothes, the best wine, mead and ale, the smiles on everyone else's faces, this was never about me. I lower my head and stare down at my now folded hands.  
"Sigyn?" he rarely ever says my name and normally it is with a tone of distaste, but his voice seems to soften a little. I glance up at him. "Go to bed, they will drink for a long time after this and I'd rather you didn't see it."  
I nod and rise to my feet, pushing back my chair, so I can bid him a proper goodnight.  
"Goodnight, husband." I curtsey and I almost see a smile flicker at the corner of his lips. I turn to go, but he swiftly grabs my hand and places a cool kiss against my skin. I shiver, but not from the coolness of his mouth or the cold air between us; I long to cup his face in my hands, to feel the smoothness of his cheek, the curl of his hair at the nape of his neck. But a loud cry of appreciation and several bawdy comments makes me quickly pull my hand away.

* * *

"Sigyn, where are you going?" my father glowers down at me, his hand tightens on my arm.  
"Loki has told me to depart to bed, I'm obeying my husband."  
My father frowns, his lips purse sullenly.  
"You should remain sitting with him."  
"How can I disobey my own husband like that?" I ask. I am confused whether to obey my husband or father.  
"Are you sure that is what he meant?"  
"Yes, he said everyone would get very drunk and he did not want me to witness such a thing."  
I see the pulse in my father's neck, a clear sign he is very angry with me, "Get back to his side, a few drunken louts at a wedding is not a surprise."  
"No." I pull my arm away from his grip, even though my flesh burns afterwards, he makes a step towards me and I quickly say, "My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty. To you I am bound for life and education. You are the lord of duty. I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband. And so much duty as my mother showed to you, preferring you before her father." I have quoted that from somewhere, but I cannot remember where from. Though I do not believe it is from _On Wifely Duties._ However, it makes my father stop and he smiles at me.  
"Very well, get you to bed. I'll send your handmaidens to attend to you."

* * *

My nightgown was a gift from my mother, it is a similar design to my wedding dress, only the flowers are now softest lilac with pale yellow stems and leaves.  
"You look very beautiful, my lady." Tyri, my handmaiden, says. I think how ironic it is that only the women of my family have told me I look beautiful, my father just gave his usual shrug when he saw me. Though I suppose Odin did comment on how I was a woman now and Thor said I looked very charming when he danced with me. But that is Thor, he has probably told that to every women he danced with tonight. When I think about it, there is only one man I would really like to tell me I am beautiful. Yet I doubt he ever will say so.  
"Could you ask my husband when he will come to bed?" I ask.  
I hear Magnhild stifle a giggle as she folds my clothes and places them in the chest at the foot of the large bed. I feel faintly ill looking at the velvet green covers, the dark wood and white sheets, so I turn back to my mirror, where Tyri is slowly taking off the emerald circlet laced tightly in my hair.  
"You can go Magnhild and ask him." I scowl, I don't bother turning when I hear her muttered 'Yes, my lady.'

My plaits are undone, Tyri gently combing out the tangles from the evening. When I see her kindly expression I suddenly feel overwhelmingly scared and burst into tears.  
"My lady." She says and crouches by my side.  
"I'm fine…I'm fine." I gasp.  
"Don't be scared, there's nothing to be scared of."  
She's lying, I can tell she's lying. All the gods are scared of Loki; they mock him and ridicule him, oh yes, but they're all scared of him. As though he will snap any minute and slit their throats. I've never been scared, I've been curious and careful, but I have no fear of him.  
"It will only hurt for a little and if you ask him to be gentle he will."  
I sniff and pull the cloth from the bowl of water on the table, wiping away my tears and pressing it against my eyes. It will do me no favours if mother or father visit me now and see I have been crying. Or if Loki comes to me now, he will scorn me.  
"He is your husband, he will protect you."  
I nod miserably, "I will protect him."  
"Of course you will." Tyri says comfortingly, continuing with the brushing of my hair. "Loki is an intelligent man and he's not as tall and broad as Thor, now that's something you could be nervous about."

I want to say that I think Loki doesn't have to be tall or broad if he wanted to frighten me, he could easily frighten me. When he said he wished to try something and pulled me behind the trees, our horses tied to the lower branches on the tree, he should have frightened me. When he whispered how he would be the first man to kiss me and to bed me, a gleam of sweet possession glinting in his eyes, he should have frightened me. But after the first kiss took me by surprise, I desired another. I wanted to try it again, it was too quick and eager the first time. There have been plenty of times when he should've scared me, but he didn't. My whole body seems to welcome him. I want him and I think that is what scares me and I'm also scared he doesn't want me, that it won't matter to him when he is with me.

Tyri leads me over to the bed, pulls back the covers and steps back to let me into the bed.  
"Don't fret, my lady. He'll bring you your wedding gift when he comes to bed." Tyri says, as though that should comfort me by some means. But it doesn't. Magnhild walks back to my chambers, a look of disgruntlement on her usual pretty features.  
"Lord Loki says he will be here soon." she mutters.  
"How soon is soon?" I ask.  
"That's what I said, my lady. But he told me to run along and give you that message." she tosses her golden hair back and glares at me, as though I had told her that.  
"Go back, Magnhild, and ask again." Tyri says, Magnhild opens her mouth to disagree, but I raise a hand.  
"It is fine, Tyri. Do not bother my husband. Goodnight, Tyri, Magnhild."  
They both curtsey low to me and leave, I hear Tyri complaining at Magnhild for not paying me the right respect, but Magnhild's voice fades as she walks down the hallway. I curl up underneath the vast ivy green cover and try not to feel like a child who's been sent to bed, while the feast downstairs continues.

* * *

_A/N: So guess who saw Thor 2? :D It was awesome and there were lots of bits that inspired the writing I'm doing for this (I loved the scenes between Loki and Frigga and Loki and Thor), but I'm not going to copy things word for word or stick religiously to the film story - I mean, it's not even mentioned Loki has a wife in any of the three films. Thank you again for reading and please do review :) xx_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three **  
**Completion**

I wake with a start, the blankets still covering my body, but underneath my nightgown is wrapped uncomfortably around my legs. My throat feels dry, so I sit up to pour some water from the jug by my bed. As I reach out towards it, I see a large shadow cast by the chair and someone sitting in it, by the fire. My hands lingers in mid-air as the shadow shifts and stretches. I slip out of the bed and pull my cloak on, then creep towards the chair. It must be very late, for the sky is near pitch black outside and there are no sounds of feasting and drinking coming from the hall. I nervously edge round the chair. Loki sits there, gazing moodily into the fire, face resting on his hand. His eyes glance up towards me, but he says nothing. I bite my lip and then feeling a little braver sit by his legs, my long red hair brushing his thighs.  
"You should not be sitting here, husband." I clear my throat, nerves binding my tongue, "You should come to bed and…and stake your claim."  
He gives a long, breathy sigh and then, surprisingly, a soft chuckle, "_On Wifely Duties_, again?"  
"Sorry," I mutter, "I didn't know how else to say it."

His hand twirls a strand of my hair around a finger, then brushes through my curls. I feel that warm, irresistible shiver again and wish he would continue brushing my hair with his fingers, rubbing my scalp with his hands. I smile when I wonder whether a cat feels like this. His hand carefully strokes down to my face, tenderly touching my forehead, before hastily going back to his lap.  
"Do I…do I need to get naked?" I say.  
"I fail to see how else we are going to do this, wife." he says, smirking.  
"You weren't really trying."  
He shrugs, "I told you from the beginning, I wasn't sure about this. I didn't want to marry."  
"Then why did you kiss me?" I ask. I feel him stiffen behind me. He says nothing, then gets up so abruptly I nearly fall backwards. Loki doesn't pay any attention to me, just moves towards the bed and pulls off his nightshirt. I watch the pale leanness of his back, sinewy strength evident in the muscles. I finally get up and go to the other side of the bed, waiting for him.

Neither of us move from where we are sitting up in the bed, I am too nervous to touch him. I can feel his eyes upon me, every so often they flick to me and then back to the cover, bunching under his tight grasp. The silence becomes intolerable and I turn my head to look at him, dark hair messy where he ran his hands through it, his chest firm and lean and urging me to touch it. He turns his head, cold ice eyes burning into my skin. I quickly take his hand, not wanting to dwell on it too much, just feeling his cool palm against my warm one. He runs a thumb along my knuckles.  
"I don't want to like you." he says, his grip on my hand tightening. "I want to hurt you."  
I feel my hand shake in his grasp, and though my voice is quiet, I still speak with confidence when I say, "You won't hurt me."  
He pushes my hand away and snorts with contempt, rolling to one side and pulling off his breeches, "And how do you know that?"  
I look away from him, "I just do. You will do your duty to me, as I will do my duty to you."  
He turns back to face me and I studiously avoid looking downwards, where the blanket is hitched over his leg. I keep my eyes level with his and he smiles once again.  
"Interesting." He murmurs, cupping my face with his hand.

"Oh I nearly forgot." I say, springing up from the bed and running to my jewellery box. I unlock it and bring out Loki's wedding gift. A dark, black blade carved from fire ice, with the handle in the shape of a dragon. The leather is black and traced with gold. I give it to him and he removes the knife from the sheath.  
"It's an old knife, from my family. " I explain quickly, "But the blade has always been sharp and it is to show my loyalty to you. My family's loyalty and strength…and the dragon reminded me of you."  
Loki smiles, carefully balancing the knife in his hand, "It's a good weight and well crafted." He presses the knife against his forefinger and a dew drop of blood wells up, he smiles and puts his finger into his mouth; bright eyes keeping level with mine.

Loki pushes it back into his sheath and places it by the bed, then gets up. He confidently strolls across the room, no sheet or robe to hide his modesty…though Loki seems to have very little modesty, I think dryly! He picks up his cloak and then reaches into one of the pockets. I avert my eyes when he turns.  
"Wife…" he says teasingly, but I do not look up. Loki walks back to the bed again and kneels nearby me. "This is for you."  
He places it on my lap and I carefully pick it up, the smoothly beaten gold band forming a torc. On one end the head of a snake glitters with an emerald eye, at the other a tale twists and bends close to the serpent's mouth.  
"Here." He gestures for me to give the torc to him and then pulls the clasp open, fastening it around my neck. The cold metal touches my skin and I shiver. He smirks as his hands linger on my neck, then dip down to follow the neckline of the gown, the small curve of my breasts. His fingers briefly slide past my nipples, they harden under the light traces of his fingers.

"Go to the mirror, see yourself with it on." He suggests.  
I get up and walk to the mirror, my reflection looming out of shadows. In the mirror the heavy gold band around my neck is carved in such a way, that the snake looks as though it is eating its own tail. I slowly brush my fingers over the torc, the metal already warming to my flesh. I hear a rustle of sheets and Loki steps up behind me, I dare not turn, he still has not pulled a robe on around him. My face is flushed when I feel him press himself against me, my whole body tensing as he presses his legs into mine and wraps a strong arm around my waist. He smiles, brushing my arm with his fingertips, before fiddling with the straps of my gown. I try to help him, my fingers shaking as I undo the other one, but he wrenches my hand away and goes back to the bed. I turn to watch him. He picks up the knife and even now I do not feel any terror.

The cold blade presses against my back, I dare not move in case it scars my flesh. It slides under the straps of the gown and then cuts them loose, my breathe is held in my lungs, anticipation flooding my body. My hands instantly cross over my chest, covering myself and Loki turns me around, his eyes taking everything in about me. He flings the knife onto the table and pulls my arms away. Cold wind blows into my room and the curtains lift in the breeze. I nervously take a step forward and, keeping my eyes upon his, I press myself into his chest. He seems bemused by this for a moment, then twists my plait around his hand before pulling the ribbon from my hair, so it cascades down my back. He scoops his hands under my head and into my hair, lifting my face up for a kiss. I cling onto him when he kisses me, tasting something sweeter than I could have ever dreamt of, it is even better than before. His hands dig painfully into my scalp and he pulls back, eyes close, mouth trembling a little.  
"I want to hate you."  
"But you don't." I whisper, gently touching his lips, hearing his sharp intake of breath, before he pulls me onto the bed and roughly pushes my legs apart.


End file.
